


Marla One Shots/Drabbles

by Itica_writes



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itica_writes/pseuds/Itica_writes
Summary: A collection of what I write for Marla. Chapters titled with a dialogue prompt are less than 400 words.
Relationships: Marla Singer/Reader
Kudos: 7





	1. "I am genuinely, deeply not ok."

“Why are you doing this to yourself, Marla?” You asked. The two of you were standing on a balcony, and the argument from earlier had turned into something deeper.

“Don’t you understand?” She said frustratedly. At your helpless expression, she sighed, turning to lean on the railing. You hesitantly walked up next to her, watching her take a long drag from her cigarette as she stared at the city below. After a moment she spoke.

“I am genuinely, deeply not ok.” She flicked her cigarette, sending embers falling. “This place is a raging shit show. A raging tornado of a shit show. It sucks you in and doesn’t let you out until the day you die.”

You realized she was talking about the slums the two of you lived in. It got to you too. The danger and grittiness, the stealing for your next meal, the threatening eyes around every corner. It was enough to wear anyone away, to make you feel trapped.

“I’m going to get us out of here, Marla.”

She scoffed. “Yea, I’ve heard that before.”

“I promise.” You insisted. You wrapped an arm around her, and after a moment she leaned into you. Seeing the way the city lights twinkled in her beaten down eyes, you knew you would find a way to keep your word.


	2. Imagine Marla staying in a nice house for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I lied in the description, this one is only 325 words. Sorry.

“Is this supposed to be your coffee maker?” Marla asked, curiously poking at the machine. It beeped a few times and she jerked her hand back.

“Uh, yea.” You answered distractedly. You were busy at the stove making breakfast.

“It looks like something out of a damn sci-fi movie.” She started to light a cigarette, but you quickly plucked it out of her mouth.

“Not inside.” You lightly scolded.

She cocked her eyebrow at you, then turned to look around the kitchen. “Yea, I suppose it’d be a shame to stink up a place like this.”

‘A place like this’ happened to be your house. You had brought her here last night after finding her on the side of the street, rambling about how she had been evicted from her apartment. She had clearly taken something, maybe one too many prescription meds,and you practically had to drag her to your place. By the time you got through the door, she had all but fallen asleep on your shoulder. You had ran a cold bath for her and sat with her in bed until morning, so she was only just now really seeing what your house looked like. She almost reminded you of a child, roaming around and fidgeting with things here and there. Looking in your fridge. Tracing her fingers along the counter.

“I haven’t stepped foot in a house this nice in a long time.”

You glanced over at her, unruly hair and thrifted dress slung over her frail figure. She looked out of place in your sleek and shiny kitchen.

“Well you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.” You offered, placing a plate of food on the table.

She paused her fiddling and looked over at you in surprise. “Stay here?”

“Yea. At least until you get on your feet again.” You nodded towards the plate, indicating that it was for her. She took a seat.

“Thank you.”


End file.
